


retrouvailles

by lorelaislatte



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: 300-1000 word ficlets, Domestic Bliss, F/F, Fix-It, Post-Darillium, Space Wives, Tooth Rotting Fluff, i just want river to be happy okay, increasingly more unrequited yaz/thirteen, i’ll figure out how that works later, the first couple are a bit shit but it gets better, treat this like parks and rec
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-10
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-08-21 19:25:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16582586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lorelaislatte/pseuds/lorelaislatte
Summary: retrouvailles: to find each other again, the happiness of meeting again after a long time.





	1. sleeping

River Song is many things - a doctor, a smuggler, a professor, a Stormcage survivor, hell, she’s got a reputation that transcends galaxies. Right now she’s an explosion of hair in a duvet, and she’s the best thing the Doctor has ever laid eyes on.

Precious few people have the privilege of considering River Song “soft”, but she _is_. She’s warm and gentle and so, so loving, and the Doctor unequivocally _does not deserve her_ -

“You’re right, I’m a marvel. Now stop thinking so loudly.”

River opens her eyes for all of four seconds, just long enough for a pointed stare, before burrowing back in to the mountain of pillows she insists on sleeping with. The Doctor just grins, shuffling closer to her and drawing her wife closer. River’s hair tickles her nose, she can’t feel her right arm, she’s fairly certain one of Team TARDIS is going to burst in on them at some point, inevitable when there’s more than one human at a time, but it doesn’t _matter_. Getting to see River Song in a state of total tranquility is something she wouldn’t trade for anything.

They’ve never been particularly domestic - far too much world-saving to do, not to mention their respective timeline conundrums - but for the first time in centuries the Doctor gets to enjoy watching her wife wake up.

It’s the little things, really.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope ya liked. haven't written anything in a while so it's nice to get going again. will happily take prompts. can't promise an update schedule but will try to be fairly regular. comments are my raison d'être. kisses.


	2. shopping

“What do you think? The red or the burgundy?”

Watching River hold two (very, very expensive) coats up, the Doctor isn’t entirely sure she can really tell the difference. They’ve taken a few days in Space Paris, just the two of them - River has always wanted to go, and the Doctor is rather trying to make up for a fair lack of romantic gestures from her previous incarnations. She’s loving the whole domesticity thing they’ve settled back in to, Darillium was meant to be _it_ , the last time, but things always seem to find a way through when River Song gets involved.

So here they are, wandering through the markets, holding hands under the Eiffel Tower, correcting all the incorrect dates and details in the Louvre between themselves. Falling off of the riverboat directly into the Canal St Martin hadn’t exactly been the Doctor’s finest moment, but River had just about burst a rib laughing, and even in her soaked indignance, River laughing is always the most beautiful thing.

“Sweetie?”

The Doctor blinks, snapping back to the present. “Well they’re both great, um, the left one?”

River studies them both for a little longer, slipping the burgundy on (the left one, the Doctor happily notes), and turns to herself in the mirror. They’ve been doing this for hours, the ‘keep’ and ‘return’ piles next to River have grown concerningly large, but they’re in _Space Paris_ , who _cares_. The Doctor is just slipping her arms around her wife’s waist, pressing a kiss to her cheek, when they hear a loud blast from outside.

“Wanna check it out?”

“Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> because we all know river would dominate the paris fashion scene, really.


	3. apologising

“So. You’re really the Doctor?”

“Yes.”

“And you came back. For me.”

“Yeah, that’s right. Why wouldn’t I? You’re my favourite.” 

They’ve been doing the whole new-face, yes-it’s-me-the-Doctor, you-shouldn’t-be-here conversation for about ten minutes. It’s going about the same as always, River’s done her why-the-hell-are-you-crossing-your-own-timeline speech, the Doctor has done her because-I-miss-you verse, they’ve got a bit of a routine established- 

And then River cries.

Oh.

That’s new.

It’s been a long while since she did _that._

The Doctor knows she should be worried as she takes her wife in her arms. River trying to hide her tears is something she’s seen a fair few times, but River openly sobbing without even bothering means whatever it is that’s caused it is really, really bad. She guides them down to sit on the steps in front of the console - even the TARDIS gives an alarmed _whirr_ , even the ship knows that’s odd, though she always did favour River - and her wife curls in to her. This body seems to be a bit better at comforting people, the Doctor notes, thanking the stars for that.

She doesn’t push River to speak, just lets her get it all out, rubbing her back and pressing kisses in to her hair. A long time goes by before River awkwardly sits up, not quite making eye contact but (thank heavens) not leaving either. The Doctor brushes a bit of hair out of her face. “Do you want to tell me?”

River stares ahead for a little longer. “Do you remember Manhattan?”

The Doctor closes her eyes, sighing a little. “Yeah.”

“Well. That. That happened. Yesterday, I think.”

“River, I’m so, so sorry.”

The Doctor still remembers Manhattan, clear as day. She remembers the pain of losing Amy and Rory, remembers the fear of reading that book and knowing in the back of her mind what was coming, remembers the tormenting giggles of the Angels, that exact graveyard.

She remembers shouting at River. She remembers later _ignoring_ River. Who had just lost her parents. Who now has to _write a book_ about losing her parents in order to lose her parents.

River, who spent that whole day comforting _her._

_Her._

She shuffles closer to where River is staring steadfast at the ground, sliding her arms around her and resting her head on her wife’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry that I was so awful to you.”

River pauses for just a moment too long. “You weren’t awful.”

“Yes, I _was._ I was sad and I should have been sad, but not at your expense. I don’t think I even hugged you.”

“You didn’t.”

The Doctor holds her tighter. “I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry. I love you, and I’m sorry.”

River finally looks at her, not quite smiling, but the hardness in her eyes has gone. “I don’t think you’ve ever said you love me, either.”

“Ah. Right. Better fix that. Maybe I’ll go and leave past-me some notes, eh? Massive block capitals on the mirror. TELL RIVER YOU LOVE HER. That’ll do it.”

Finally, _finally,_ River gives her a small smile, leaning in to her, taking hold of her hands. “Mm. That’ll do it.”

The TARDIS hums.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can you tell i still haven't forgiven literally any bad thing 11 ever did to her 
> 
> your comments are making my life worth living in this sociopolitically hellish wasteland that britain has become
> 
> bisous, chéries. take care of each other


	4. dancing

_ Sweetie, _

_ Queen Wilhelmina is hosting a dance tonight. Don’t want to go alone. Coordinates below.  _

_ Wear something sexy.  _

_ Xx _

And that’s how the Doctor had ended up in what Ryan had described as a “Gatsby-esque” flapper dress, stood outside the Noordeinde Palace and nervously clutching a bouquet of jasmine flowers. Somehow a post-it note in River’s handwriting had appeared unnoticed on the TARDIS console that morning, an impressive feat with four people wandering around, but River always found a way. 

Yaz, Ryan, and Graham are all standing with her, allegedly because they wanted to experience a historic Dutch dance, but really, they’d all been clamouring to meet River since Yaz accidentally walked in on one of their more explicit meetings. River had laughed so hard she almost cried, the Doctor hadn’t been able to look her companion in the eye since, and The Day Yaz Opened The Third Door On The Left had gone down in history as a TARDIS-equivalent national holiday. Not helped by Yaz awkwardly describing River as “pretty, in a terrifying sort of way” to the others a few days later. 

“Is that her?”

The Doctor can’t hold herself together enough to reply.

Because River has turned up in a suit. A  proper, tailored, Marlene Dietrich suit. 

She can’t feel her hearts. 

“Well, hello, darling wife. Are your friends here deliberately this time?” 

Yaz chokes on air as River winks flirtatiously at her, turning to Graham and Ryan. “Professor River Song. Archaeologist and part time Doctor-wrangler. It’s a pleasure.”

The Doctor doesn’t think she still has the capacity to breathe. 

* * *

About an hour later River has a glass of expensive champagne in one hand and her wife’s waist in the other, laughing seductively at something their server had said. Team TARDIS have distanced themselves, cramming around a tiny corner table to observe. Yaz holds her breath as River leans forward to caress the Doctor’s cheek, Ryan drops a comment about never having seen the Doctor turn that shade of red before, Graham is simply watching in amusement. He’s learned to stop asking questions when he already knows he won’t understand the answer. It’s only Yaz shifting uncomfortably next to him as River invites the Doctor to dance that takes him back in to the moment, putting a warm hand on her shoulder in understanding. He’s lived long enough to know what an unrequited crush feels like. “Come on, you. Let’s have a dance.”

* * *

 

“How long has it been? For you?”

“Oh, not long. Your note turned up this morning. We went ice-skating last Tuesday. I only fell over once.”

“Spoilers.”

“Yeah, 'cause me falling over on ice is really shocking.”

River grins, leaning her forehead against her wife’s in a moment of unashamed intimacy. “Thank you for the flowers. They’re beautiful.”

“Beautiful flowers for a beautiful woman.”

River’s eyebrows shoot up. “This body is much better at that than the others, I like it.”

“I’m a woman of surprises. Sometimes. Not very often. Or very often? Depends who you are. You know me too well to really be-“

“Ruining it.”

“Right. Sorry.” 

The music changes to a slow, melodic tune. The Doctor brings both of her hands up to River’s shoulders, feeling her wife’s hands sink lower down her back. “You do know that by turning up in this you could actually have killed me,” she murmurs, playing with one of River’s suit lapels. River gives her one of those looks, the ‘oh, do I  _ know’  _ looks that nobody in the known universe can pull off as well as she can. “Think I might have run the risk of bumping off young Yasmin too.”

“Tough.” She leans in for a kiss. “You’re not for sharing.”

“Mm. I’m not sure I’m the one she wants to be shared, my love.” 

The Doctor looks over to where Yaz is pretending very hard not to be watching them. “Well, l think your first meeting maybe got the married point across well enough.”

River laughs, leaning down to press her lips to the Doctor’s again. “It’d better.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so somehow these have gone from tiny ficlets to, well, this. ten points to anyone who knows why i chose jasmine flowers specifically.


	5. presents

“They all look the same. Why do they all look the same?”

Yaz is hiding her laughter as best she can - not an easy feat when watching the Doctor staring in what can only be described as pure distress at a makeup stand.

Admittedly, taking her to Selfridges in the middle of the Christmas season probably wasn’t her brightest idea, but the Doctor had gone on and on about how she needed to buy this specific present for so long that, if nothing else, Yaz had taken her just to quieten her down. They’d all been trying to figure out why in the world this was so important - Graham’s best guess was that it was something for the TARDIS, Ryan had just been winding her up about her crush (“maybe it’s an engagement ring for Yaz”), Yaz herself assumed it was something useful for a past self. What’s the point in having multiple forms if you can’t help yourself out once in a while?

“This is it!” She’s shaken out of her thoughts by the Doctor triumphantly holding up a dusky pink lipstick in glee, holding it up to the light. “See? It even comes with a little box. Brilliant, that. Genius.”

How this is the wisest woman in the universe, Yaz has no idea.

* * *

Christmas on the TARDIS is a merry affair - Yaz is grateful to get out of the chaos of her house, and she expects it’s nice for Graham and Ryan to have a distraction from their first year without Grace. The Doctor has spent most of dinner quietly stealing everyone’s paper hats and is sitting very happily next to the tree with four stacked upon her head (they’ve given up asking how she managed it - sometimes it’s just not worth it). Out of the corner of her eye she can see the mystery gift, wrapped somewhat chaotically with just about every kind of decoration possible, but there’s no gift tag attached, and it sits there even after all their presents have been passed around. They’ve all got three, so who in the world is it for?

She’s distracted by her thoughts by the Doctor letting out a loud “oh, BRILLIANT” as she opens Yaz’s present, immediately wrapping her new rainbow scarf around her neck. Yaz’s breath catches in her throat as she’s pulled into a hug, and she’s just relaxing in to it when the door to the library suddenly opens.

Oh.

_Oh._

Someone she doesn’t recognise is stood there, a woman with curly hair and a smirk masking her surprise.

“Am I interrupting?”

Before Yaz can even formulate a response the Doctor is throwing herself at the woman, embracing her with her whole body, muttering something that sounds like _impossible_ _woman_ , Yaz can’t quite hear. Her surprise only grows when the Doctor leans back just enough to draw the woman in to a fierce kiss. She can’t tear her eyes away - it’s only when Ryan tugs at her arm that she blinks back to herself, standing up and quietly following the others out of the room, trying to ignore the twinge of disappointment tugging at the back of her mind. 

* * *

River is vaguely aware of her wife’s current companions shuffling past them, not bothering to tear her lips away. _They’ll_ _have_ _to_ _get_ _used_ _to_ _it,_ she thinks, winding her arms tighter around the Doctor. Nothing in the world could have stopped her spending Christmas with the one person she wanted to most, and she wasn’t about to let three bewildered humans be the end of their little reunion.

“Merry Christmas, my love,” she says as the Doctor pulls away to run her fingers through her hair, over her face, down her shoulders, anywhere she can, because River is _alive_ and _real_ and _here_ , and she hasn’t seen her wife in far too long.

“I have something for you!”

The Doctor bounds over to her tree, extracting a truly monstrous box with far more decorations than paper. She stops dead in front of River, holding the box out to her. “Sorry. Got a bit excited. Never wrapped a Christmas present before. Been a while since I even had a Christmas. Oh! Merry Christmas!” She punctuates the end of her thoughts by pulling River in to another kiss, pushing the box in to her hands.

River stares down at the gift, suddenly feeling somewhat overwhelmed. She still isn’t used to sheer openness of this version of her spouse, still isn’t quite sure how to handle the displays of affection, but by stars she’s trying. After so many years of convincing herself that _of_ _course_ _the_ _Doctor_ _doesn’t_ _love_ _you_ , _how_ _can_ _the_ _Doctor_ _love_ _you_ , _you’re_ _nothing_ , _you’re_ _the_ _assassin_ , coming to terms with the sheer amount of adoration this Doctor radiates is a task in itself.

“You alright? Lost you there for a moment.”

River takes a deep breath. “More than alright. It’s just that I don’t think you’ve ever given me a present before.”

“Haven’t I? Ah. Well. Sorry about that. Something else to remind future me about. More mirror notes. You’ll have presents coming out of your ears.”

River grins at her, unshed tears threatening to spill from her eyes as she tears through the paper, stopping short as she gets to the gift there. It’s the same lipstick she was wearing in the Library.

“I didn’t - it’s not meant to be because of _that_. It’s just that - well, it’s the first lipstick you ever wore around me. The one you were wearing when I first met you, that is. Suited you. Still does, probably. You’re not upset, are you? Please don’t be-“ River cuts her off by pulling her into a deep kiss by her scarf, pouring all of her gratitude in to it.

“It’s perfect. More than perfect.”

“I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too, sweetie.”

“I’m looking forward to seeing that lipstick on you in a happier situation.”

“Mm. I’m looking forward to seeing it in quite a few other places.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you couldn’t tell, these are very much not chronological or even vaguely in the same universe. 
> 
> i chose jasmine flowers last chapter because their filipino etymology is unconditional, eternal love, though where_is_my_10_15 mentioned that the name yasmin derived from jasmine, and so i’m pretending that’s part of the reason.
> 
> this was partly inspired by ciara in kerblam, partly by the fact i’m writing this at christmas. hope you’re all having a good day! sorry i keep putting yaz through it. i promise i do love her.


End file.
